“If we could think of something that no one else would give her—­”

“And that would remind her of us and the things the Club does.”

“The Club makes furniture,” laughed Roger, “but I shouldn’t suggest that we repeat our latest triumph and give her a sideboard made of old boxes.”

They all roared, but James came up with a serious expression after a roll that took him some distance away from his friends.

“Boxes am ree-diculous,” he remarked, “but furniture isn’t.  Isn’t there some piece of furniture that they’d like better than anything else we could give them?”

“I’ve got an idea,” announced Roger.

“Quick, quick; catch it!” and Tom tossed over his cap to hold any notions that might trickle away from the main mass.

“Since we’ve been doing this furniture making for Rose House I’ve spent a good deal of time in the carpenter shop on Main Street.  You know it belongs to the son of those old people down by the bridge, Mr. and Mrs. Atwood.”

“The ones we gave a ‘show’ for?” asked Delia.

“The same people.  The son was pleased at our going there and he hasn’t minded my fooling round his place and he’s given me a lot of points.  He makes good furniture himself.”

“As good as yours?” asked James dryly.

“Go on!” retorted Roger.  “He’s a real joiner rather than a carpenter, but there isn’t any chance for a joiner in a town like Rosemont, so he does any kind of carpentering.”

“Go ahead, Roger.  We don’t care for the gentleman’s biography.”

“Yes, you do; it has some bearing on what I’m going to propose.”

“Let her shoot, then.”

“Mr. Atwood has a whole heap of splendid mahogany planks in his shop.  I came across them one day and asked him about them.  He’s been collecting them a long time and they’re splendidly seasoned and he’s just waiting for a chance to make them into something.”

“A light begins to break.  We’ll have him make our present.  Are you sure he’ll make it well enough?  It’s got to be a crackerjack to be suitable for Miss Gertrude.”

“This is what I thought.  The doctor and Miss Gertrude both like open bookcases.  I heard them say once they liked to be able to take out a book without having to bother with a door.”

“Me, too,” agreed Margaret.  “And I never could see the use of a back.”

“That’s what I say,” said Helen.  “I’d rather dust the books more carefully and not have the extra weight added to the bookcase.”

“You know the furniture they call ’knockdown’?”

Everybody nodded.  They had all become familiar with various makes of furniture since their attention had been called to the subject by their summer’s interests.

“I think Mr. Atwood can make us a bookcase that will consist of two upright end pieces with holes through them where each shelf is to go.  The shelves will have two extensions on each end that will go through these square holes and they will be held in place by wedges driven through these extensions on the outside of the uprights.  Get me?”